[thecrankysheriff]:
A stroke of confidence had shown itself when Reggie saw the naked pain on the other’s face. Oh, that’s good to know. Backfires can happen, and it seemed to do a good number on his assailant. Who was charging at him right now; Reggie’s shoulders and back tensing in preparation for the impact. He only had so much water, the material in question gathering in his hand with a flick of his wrist, the power humming under his skin in a way that always makes him want to shudder.
“Done playing games now huh?”
The crooked Sheriff gives a sharp inhale, hand curling into a fist as the other gets closer, faster, until Reggie has no choice but to throw his fist and prepare for the hit.
He doesn’t care to grace the other with an answer, instead focusing too much on trying to avoid any kind of retaliatory attack that might come his way. This was never a game to him; games were fun, they were mindless-- but this? This was Shane’s self-proclaimed duty, and he’ll do what he swore he’d do or die trying. Above all else, keeping his left hand dry was now his priority; if it gets hit, he’s probably going without most of his powers for the remainder of the fight.
And he doesn’t like his odds of surviving if that happens.
He knows it’s going to hurt, but yet again his right arm moves up to block the other’s punch, trying to maintain any kind of grip on his fist whilst his other hand attempts to grab the sheriff’s throat. All Shane needs is the slightest bit of contact with exposed skin; if he gets that, he might stand a chance at killing this guy. But judging from the sharp pain running through his arm and the threat of the aforementioned pain breaking his concentration, he’s not sure how much longer he can hold this up.










